Waking Up Clara

When she wakes up in the morning, the only thing Clara wants to do is come to my bed to breastfeed.  I am in the process of slowly weaning her, and the morning feeding was the next feeding to get cut.  It is sad for both of us.  I love snuggling with her, of course, but the morning breastfeeding also gave me a few minutes more to doze.

My strategy for the morning weaning is simple: instead of bringing her to my bed when she wakes up, I'll put on my slippers and we'll go for a walk around the neighborhood.

This morning she sensed a change in the air.

"Beast," she said, smacking my chest as we left her bedroom.  "Beast," she repeated more urgently, smacking her own chest as we headed down the stairs.

"Honey, when you do that, it sounds like you're calling yourself a 'beast,'" I replied.

"Best," she tried again, putting her hand lightly over her chest.  I could hear the grogginess in her voice mixing with the strain of trying to present her needs logically to me.

"Now it looks like you're just full of yourself," I replied.

"Mommmmmmmyyyyy!!!!" she yelled in frustration. I want the breast!  You know my words for "breast!"  And you're ignoring me and talking in grown-up language I don't understand!  And apparently taking me on a strange tour of the house!!!! And--

"Ohhhhh," she said as I opened the front door and the fragrant, early-morning world greeted us.

"Bus," she said, pointing to a Lowe's delivery van parked next door.

"Close, very close.  It's long, but not as long as a bus."

We walked for a block, I in my sweats and she in her pink gingham jammies, her hair flying all over the place.  There are four dogs that we know of on our block.  We can see them in the backyards.  The blond lab next door put her front paws up on the fence to bay at us.  The mutt across the street barked and wagged his tail.

In front of a house with a chainsaw sculpture of St. Francis de Assisi, there was a flock of quails.

"Bird," Clara said, pointing to them.  For the longest time, she called birds, "dogs." I was surprised and delighted she knew the word for birds, and I told her so.

We looked at some plants next door, and a multi-forked tree perfect for a tree house.  The street cleaner passed.

"Bus," Clara said, pointing at it.

"Pretty close.  It's loud like a bus, but it's not a bus."

We got back to the house and she had a delicious breakfast of cheerios and yogurt.